It's almost really nice
To feel like I'm baked over fire and ice;
It seems like I can swallow the moon undisguised
And enjoy the viands sans the rice.

I feel like I'm always on the rise,
Nobody can guess my shoe size.
How many times did I roll the dice
And let everyone pay the price?

Why do I feel like all other men are mice?
Cannot acknowledge anymore the hello's and hi's;
I only stop to binge on pineapple pies;
Though cursing is my one and only vice.

The faithless so challenging to entice;
And when I need to learn I always listen to
people who are not so wise
Because I feel like I can make the same mistake
four times, if not thrice.
You see, I'm just really a hapless victim of
my own device.